


stormy sea of moving emotion

by JkWriter



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, References to Supernatural (TV), Richie Tozier is a Hunter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:42:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JkWriter/pseuds/JkWriter
Summary: As a rule Richie doesn't make friends, but then he moves to Derry and it's impossible not to. [aka Richie comes from a family of hunters and they're brought to Derry]





	1. Chapter 1

Richie hated Derry. 

It wasn’t fair to the little town, it wasn’t completely bad and did have redeeming qualities like a fifth of the people who weren’t horrible and the arcade downtown, but to do anything fun or actually acknowledge any of the redeeming qualities meant getting attached and that was the last thing he wanted to do when it was only a matter of time before his family was packing their bags and leaving as quickly and as mysteriously as they came. 

His dad, Wentworth, brought their family, himself, his wife, and Richie, into Derry nearly a month ago after hearing of a string of disappearances of young children and teenagers with no developments in the case. “It’s the family business,” Wentworth said on the drive from Chicago. That’s great, Richie has thought, but he really fucking hates the family business because unlike every town and city they traveled to, the family business had no redeeming qualities. There was no “light at the end of the tunnel” or “silver lining” to this bullshit, just a broken family chasing some monster that might not even still be alive but who was Richie to say that? “You’re tearing the family apart,” his parents would say as if their inability to see their unhealthy obsessions wasn’t.

The worst part of Derry had to be Derry High. Richie thought he was over being the new kid, he’s jumped from school to school so often that it barely phases him anymore, or at least it didn’t. His last two schools, in Hillsborough and Chicago respectively, hardly affected him: he walked in on the first day, quickly established himself as someone who didn’t want any friends and went through the rest of his short time there alone. He wasn’t so lucky at Derry High. The first day, Richie walked into school and immediately found himself surrounded by a group of self-proclaimed assholes who couldn’t take a hint to back off. 

“‘Ello, lads,” Richie said because he doesn’t have a sense of self-preservation. In a fair fight, which for Richie meant not being in a school of witnesses, he could take them but this wasn’t going to be a fair fight and Richie couldn’t give anything away. He backed away slowly, sizing them up as he did so. The biggest immediate threat was mullet who led the group. Richie glanced around, looking for a quick way out. There wasn’t and no one was coming to his aid either. Teachers and students say and turned the other way meaning the teens in front of him had some sort of a reputation, something that scared the others. Richie saw a shorter boy in a polo drop his bag and take off down the hall, a sign that what to come couldn’t be good. 

“You’re new,” mullet said. The other three lingered behind confirming that he was their leader. That was good, Richie could work with this.

He looked past the one in front of him to one of the others, the blond who less intimidating than the rest, and said “Acute observation, my dude. Is that all or…?”

Mullet huffed in annoyance at being ignored. He motioned forward with two fingers and the group of boys descended on Richie. Richie stepped back, right into a row of lockers. It wasn’t ideal but he still had a chance to get away. “New kid has spark, huh Patrick?” 

“Definitely. Would love to see what it takes to get that flame to flicker out of his eyes.” 

Or not, Richie didn’t like the look in this Patrick guy's eyes. He looked like a wendigo who just spotted its prey, and in a way he did. There wasn’t much Richie could do to get out of this without earning himself detention or even suspension. If the teachers wouldn’t help him in the moment they certainly wouldn’t help after. “As much as I’m loving this little meet and greet, I need to get going, classes to find and such.” 

“You’ll leave when we say you can.” Mullet grabbed Richie’s shoulder and pressed him into the lockers. He could feel the handle of the iron blade through his backpack. He wondered how they would feel if Richie brought that out. These dudes looked insane, it wouldn’t surprise him if they had weapons of their own hidden under school clothes and in lockers. “Understand?” 

“See, I would say yes and stay, but I really have to get going.” 

“Shut it,” mullet said, pulling Richie from the lockers only to shove him back. Richie’s head smacked against the metal, it was disorientating but not the worst head injury he’s ever gotten. Still, this situation was starting to get on his nerves.  _ “Don’t fight back,”  _ Wentworth had told him after Richie got into his third fight back in Albany, but he never said what to do instead of fighting back leaving Richie defenseless against these four assholes. The worst part was the other students whose eye Richie would catch before they took off in the other direction faster than polo shirt. There weren’t many times Richie was left completely alone but this was quickly becoming one of the worst and these assholes weren’t even shapeshifters.

“He...hey! Bowers, leave him alone.” 

Bowers. It seemed like an appropriate name for the dickbag holding him against the lockers. Richie’s “savior” didn’t look like much, but he wasn’t alone. There were two others behind him, much like Bowers and his little gang except much less threatening. At least the attention wasn’t on him. Bowers hold slipped and Richie used took advantage to twist away and duck under Patrick’s outstretched arm. If Bowers or the others seemed shocked by the new development they didn’t show it. Richie moves to stand behind the group of smaller teens, he even threw a smile to Bowers who rolled his eyes and called off his lackeys. 

“You can have him, Losers. I’m sure he’ll fit right in with your little group,” Bowers said and that was the end of it. He marched off, his ragtag group of delinquents obediently following, and Richie was left with the three boys who saved him. The three turned their attention to him and for a moment Richie wondered if he sized them up incorrectly, especially if Bowers was willing to back off so quickly.

“You good?” The curly-haired one asked. 

“Is he good? Of course, he’s not good! School hasn’t even started and he’s already found himself on Bowers shitlist. The very same list we’re on, might I add. Seriously, Bill, Bowers looked pissed and last time he looked like that, the psycho attacked Ben and Bev,” the shorter of the three said before Richie could answer curly’s question. Shortie, Richie so helpfully dubbed him, continued to go on naming everything about the encounter with Bowers that had gone wrong. When he dropped his bag and ran earlier it now seemed it wasn’t from fear but a desire to help. He had gone and gotten the two others and brought them back to get Bowers to back off. “He probably needs a hospital. Do you need a hospital, new kid?” 

“Richie.” 

“Huh?” 

“You called me New Kid, my name is Richie. I’m guessing you guys have names? Or should I keep calling you Curly, Shortie, and 2009 Phil Lester in my head?” 

“Nice to meet you, Richie,” Curly said, “I’m Stan. That’s Bill,” he pointed to 2009 Phil Lester, and then Shortie. “And worrywart is Eddie. You’ll have to forgive him, he thinks every sneeze is a sign of the plague.” 

Stan, Bill, and Eddie. Nice names for a trio of saviors, sure, they weren’t as fun as the nicknames Richie had given them but those nicknames weren’t very good to begin with. 

_ Give it a week,  _ he thought,  _ you’ll have better nicknames by then.  _

Except...Except Richie couldn’t give them nicknames. Nicknames were a sign of attachment, a sign that he was going to integrate himself into their friend group and he couldn’t do that. “Two weeks,” Wentworth had said, “Two weeks until we move on.” Richie couldn’t get attached, couldn’t break his own rules. He wasn’t going to have a repeat of Hawkins. 

“Well, thanks for the save, guys. And thanks for the speech on safety, Eds, I’m sure I’ll remember it for the pop quiz later. But I better get going, classes to find and hiding spots to discover.” 

He tried to slip away but Bill grabbed his arm. “Do you, uh, ne...need help finding your classes?” 

_ Say no. Say no. Say no.  _

“And miss out on the great high school experience of wandering the halls lost until I get detention on the first day for accidentally skipping? I could never!” 

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Stan said. “‘Sides, Bowers doesn’t usually pounce when you’re in a group.” 

_ Don’t say...Ah, fuck it,  _ he thought.  _ It’s just two weeks, you can’t get too attached in two weeks. _

And then two turned into four and the little group of friends turned into seven. They introduced him to their other friends, Beverly, Ben, and Mike, at lunch that same day. Richie recognized Mike from his English class and Beverly from theatre. 

“Eddie said Stan was going to bring you over here, I figured it’d be easier to let them introduce us than me trying to do it myself,” Beverly said from beside him. She was arguing with Eddie when Stan and Richie walked up, arguing about who was going to sit next to him. That was a first in Richie’s life and it made him feel fuzzy, not a bad fuzzy but the good kind like when his dad praised him for getting the exorcism right on the first go through. 

“Nice to meet you, Richie. I’m sure you’re going to fit right in,” Ben said and he did. By the end of the day he had everyone’s number on his phone. He had no intentions of texting or calling any of them, the phone was meant for emergencies, but his parents never said that others couldn’t text him and when it started going off that night they smiled when he said it was people from school. 

“Here I was starting to think you couldn’t make friends,” Wentworth said. Richie wanted to say,  _ I don’t because we always leave _ , but he didn’t. He smiled and replied to Mike’s message about the English homework. 

It wasn’t until the middle of week four that Richie brought it up. “I thought we were leaving,” Richie said to Wentworth over a breakfast of instant oatmeal. Maggie was still asleep. 

“Hunt is taking longer than it should. Whatever it is taking these kids doesn’t want us to know. It knows were here, started picking up after itself.”

“Why? It’s not even like we’re a feared family of hunters.”

“We aren’t the Winchester’s, but we have a name and it gets spread around in the monster community.” 

“You make it sound like there’s a Facebook group or something for monsters.” 

“I don’t know what they have, but it’s something. They always seem to know when we’re coming and pick up their act, but don’t worry, whatever’s taking those kids is gonna get hungry again and we’re gonna catch him.” 

Richie stares down into his bowl. He knew they were gonna catch the thing and he knew they were gonna kill it, but how many would be lost in between? They couldn’t catch it unless there was a pattern, something even Dean Winchester would pick up on, but the only pattern they had was the age range of the kids. All of the missing were between six and sixteen. They were taking from seemingly random locations at all times of the day with no consistent characteristics. Betty was a straight A freshman at Derry High and Chase was an eight-year-old who liked to skateboard after dark. 

This, the waiting game, was the worst part of the hunt. So many things could happen before they find it, any one of his friends could be the next...

Richie dropped his spoon. “I’m done, may I be excused to get ready for school?” 

“Go for it, kiddo. And don’t forget the holy water. I refilled your vial last night.” 

He felt like a freak carrying around an iron blade, rock salt, and holy water, but it was the one thing he could never compromise on. As long as they stayed in the bottom of his bag no one saw and asked questions. “I saw, put it in my bag already.” 

“Attaboy.” 

Richie dumped the rest of his oatmeal into a container and stuck it in the mini-fridge. Half of the shelves were full of beer, local brews his parents fell in love with the first week, and the other was meant for leftovers like his oatmeal. He swapped out the oatmeal for last night’s Chinese. Richie could already hear Eddie’s facts about reheated dinners not retaining their original nutritional value, but there was barely anything nutritional about his Sesame Chicken to begin with. He shoved the container in his bag. 

He moved around the room quietly, careful to not wake Maggie, as he got himself ready for the day. Living on the road as they did meant Richie didn’t have many options in the clothing department. He usually recycled the same four outfits over and over, something that went unnoticed until his move to Derry. 

Eddie had been the first to notice, of course, and confronted Richie in the hall halfway through the first cycle. “Do you not own any other shirts?” Eddie asked. He stood in front of Richie’s locker looking as though he had been waiting for him. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said, do you not own any other shirts? You wore that one last Tuesday, and the one you worse yesterday you had worn on Friday.” 

“Awe, Eds, are you paying attention to what I’m wearing? I know you cared!” Richie pinched one of Eddie’s cheeks, cackling when Eddie flailed and smacked his hand away. 

“Of course I’m paying attention! But it’s not just you so don’t start feeling special. I’d say the same thing to Bill or Bev if they started wearing the same thing over and over.” 

Richie looked down at his shirt. Today’s was one of the oldest he owned, a faded graphic t-shirt with the Jurassic Park logo on it. Richie spent a week in Phoenix begging before Maggie relented and bought it but that was more likely because a shapeshifter tried to kill him than anything Richie said. “What can I say? I like dinosaurs.” 

Eddie frowned but dropped the subject when Stan and Ben stopped by to cart them off to lunch. It felt normal except for Eddie’s eyes lingering on him. The next day was much the same, Eddie standing in front of Richie’s locker waiting, except today Eddie held a bag in his hands. He shoved it into Richie’s arms before he could ask anything. 

“It’s something a great aunt got me that’s way too big and not my style,” was the only explanation he got. Richie pulled a dinosaur overshirt out of the bag. 

“Holy fuck,” he said. 

Eddie bit his lip. “You don’t need to take it if you don’t want it.” 

“No, shut up, I love it.” Richie changed into the shirt during lunch. 

Since then he’s amassed a small collection of donated clothing, mostly from Bill whose parents were constantly buying him new clothes which matched his little brother. Richie still gravitated towards the four that had been his normal for so many years, but not everyday. He picked out an “old” aloha shirt of Stan’s, that he was pretty sure Stan bought new just for Richie because the tags were still on it and the style was definitely Richie, and the jeans he usually saved for hunting because they were black and blood didn’t show on it.

Richie never cared much about how he looked because he never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends. Getting up earlier and taking a shower before breakfast so his hair would have a chance to dry was a new experience that he found he didn’t completely hate. He used Maggie’s hairbrush to make the nest on his head somewhat presentable and changed into the clothes. Richie left the tiny, motel bathroom looking somewhat like a functional human being. 

Maggie was sitting at the table when Richie left the bathroom. “Richie! You look nice today, is that a new shirt?” 

“A friend gave it to me. He said he grew out of it and none of the others would take it, I don’t know why they would ever say no to a beauty like this.” He twirled, the edges of the shirt lifting up in the air. Maggie laughed and Wentworth rolled his eyes. Richie looked at his parents. “Am I walking today?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind, your father and I are getting close, I know it.” 

Close, she said. They were getting close. That meant they would find whatever it is taking these kids and they’d skip town never to look back. That meant Richie was going to lose The Losers, the only group of people he’s ever let himself get close to. He was going to lose them and never see them again because they’d all move on one day and forget about the kid who showed up at their school for a month and then left. 

For the first time in a long time, Richie didn’t want to leave. He didn’t care if it meant dealing with Henry Bowers and his stupid group of idiots, as long as he was with the others everything would be okay. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” Richie asked. “They wouldn’t notice if I missed a day of school.” Except Eddie would. Maybe Stan and Bill and fuck, everyone would notice if Richie wasn’t at his locker this morning, but staying to help might be the only way he can slow his parents down, even if it’s only for a day. 

“No, you go to school and see your friends.” 

Richie left the motel feeling a little more doubtful about his “friend situation”. He should have known better than to take Bill’s offer that first day. He shouldn’t have left Stan drag him to their shared lunch table and he should have never looked in Eddie’s direction because now he was going to leave them all and there was nothing he could do. 

He stopped by Eddie’s house on the way. It had become somewhat of a ritual to walk him to school since they realized Eddie’s place was on the way (from where, the others didn’t know. Richie kept them as in the dark as he could about his home life. The less they knew, the better) and sometimes Stan and Bill would meet them there. Richie thought it was strange they didn’t ride their bikes to school like the others, but according to Bev “They stopped because you were walking and didn’t want you to walk alone.” Richie appreciated the gesture but hadn’t that they were changing their traditions for him. It was going to make his inevitable disappearance harder. 

Stan and Eddie were waiting by the mailbox, Bill nowhere in sight. It was strange, but not completely unheard of. Bill would sometimes meet up with Bev and Ben in the mornings instead. What wasn’t normal was how down the other two looked. 

“Jesus, you guys look like someone died,” Richie said as he approached them. Eddie sniffled and Richie straightened, mind going to the worst.  _ Eddie’s hurt. Something happened to Ben or Bill.  _ “Oh fuck, did someone die?” 

“I don’t know how much your family knew about Derry before moving here.”  _ A lot,  _ Richie wanted to say to Stan. “But uh, some kids had been going missing on and off for a couple of years before you got here.” 

He feigned shock. “Shit, really? What the hell, that’s messed up.”

“Yeah, and uh, last night,”  _ Fucking hell.  _ “Georgie never came home.”


	2. Chapter 2

He couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening. Georgie was fine and this was a joke, a bad joke on the new kid, except Eddie was still crying and Stan was staring off in the distance. Fuck, why Georgie? There were hundreds of kids and teenagers in the age bracket they identified, hundreds who could have been taken. Oh god, was Bill okay? He and Georgie were close, Bill was always bragging about his little brother’s accomplishments.  _ “Georgie got a 100 on his spelling test.”  _ and  _ “Georgie made the local soccer team!”  _ Richie couldn’t even imagine it, he didn’t have anyone like that. And the others… In the Loser’s Club Georgie wasn’t just Bill’s little brother, he was everyone’s. It was no wonder why Eddie looked as though he had his heart broken and Stan’s worried expression hadn’t disappeared. “Oh my god,” Richie said. “Is Bill alright?” 

“As alright as he can be. He’s staying home today and probably for the rest of the week, his parents are freaking out about him right now.”  _ Rightfully so,  _ Richie wanted to say. “We were talking earlier, if he is allowed outside one of us is going to be with him, parent’s rule which I think is fair, it’s not a good idea for any of us to be alone right now.”

And then it him. Georgie fit into the age bracket pretty well, but that didn’t mean anything. So what if Georgie was ten? Richie was fifteen, on the cusp of the age bracket as well. If Richie was a monster and a couple of monster hunters came into town, he’d want to scare them off and what better way than taking their kid? 

Or taking their kid’s friend’s little brother. 

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _ This doesn’t happen, it’s not supposed to happen. Every time they’re crossed the wrong monster, one who’s human enough to think about scaring them off, they’ve tried to kill Richie. He can handle it, he knows how to handle, how to get under their skin enough so they slip up and his mom and dad can save him, but Georgie’s just a kid. He doesn’t deserve this, he won’t know how to handle it.  _ This is fine, I can fix this.  _ “You guys head on without me and I’ll catch up, I left something at home.” He turned away from the two so he didn’t have to see the expressions on their faces and started walking. 

“Richie, wait! Did you even listen to a word I just said?” 

Richie ignored Stan, already walking away from the two of them and cursing at himself for not wanting to find this thing. He was selfish, he wanted to stay in town a little longer, and now Georgie was missing. Richie knew it wasn’t his fault and that he hadn’t actually done anything that night sabotage the hunt but he had thought about it. It didn’t matter that Georgie disappeared last night, long before Richie had even thought about trying to stay longer, because was the hunter here. Whatever is out knows who Richie is and it’s sending a message. Well too bad, fuckface, because now he’s more determined than ever. 

“Hey, asshole! Stop walking away from us! Kids are going missing again,” Eddie and Stan caught up, walking on either side of Richie. “we’re not letting you walk home alone.” 

“Sorry, Eds, but you’ve got to, otherwise the two of you are going to miss first period. Run along now.” He shooed them away, or tried to, 

“Seriously, Richie, what’s up with you? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird, you guys are being weird. Go to class.” 

“Not without you,” Stan said. Richie faltered. No one had ever been like this to him but he never let anyone get close enough to try either. Maybe he could have had this in Hawkins or Hillsborough or even Albany if he just left it happen. “There was something in your eye, when we said Georgie was missing, you know something. I want to know what the hell that was about. We deserve to know whatever you do, Bill deserves to know.” 

Did they care about him? Did they not care and just want his information? It didn’t matter because they weren’t going to let him off on his own. He could run, but they’d just follow. Richie could outrun both of them but it would be leaving them vulnerable and even if he did get away and they were somehow fine at the end of the day he couldn’t hide from them forever, they would track him down, maybe tell the others that Richie knew something. They wouldn’t...They wouldn’t blame him, would they? The disappearances had been going on for a few years, well before the Tozier family made an appearance, but Richie’s been through this enough to know what happens, the townsfolk always turned on the new family before questioning one of their own. 

_ I’m going to tell them everything.  _ It’s the first time in his life he’s wanted to tell someone what’s happening, how he spends his nights and why his family is always moving. He was almost surprised at how quickly he decided to do it, he didn’t even have an internal argument debating the pros and cons until he eventually makes up a lie about being a wanted criminal. 

“I’ll tell you what I can, but first we need to get somewhere safe,” he said. Richie scanned the area around them. No cars passed but Richie could see stay-at-Mom’s and on the down families peeking at them through their curtains. “Like, somewhere away from everyone.” 

_ Way to sound like a serial killer.  _

“We have a place, in the barrens, we can go there.” 

“ _ Stan,”  _ Eddie hissed. 

“What? It’s not like Richie’s a killer, and we’ve known him long enough that we can show him the clubhouse. I’m surprised you hadn’t dragged him there already yet.” 

“I care about the sanctity of our special places, believe it or not.” They stopped walking, Eddie and Stan standing together slightly away from where Richie stopped. “Stan, he knows something about Georgie,” Eddie whispered except it wasn’t really a whisper and was directed right to Richie. That hurt just a little but he understood why Eddie did it, he was watching for Richie’s reaction which was for Richie to look away from the two and let them have whatever privacy Eddie thought they needed. 

“Which is why we need to find out what’s wrong. And it won’t be just us, I’ll message the others and tell them to meet us there. Maybe Bev can sneak Bill out.” 

“Bill shouldn’t be cooped up in his house anyways, he’s going to need support from his friends, we all do.” Eddie was staring at Richie again. Richie looked up at the tree line and imagined what sort of creature could be lurking there.

“You act like he can hurt us.” 

“You saw him go one on one with Hocksetter last week.” 

“Yeah, but just because he can doesn’t mean he would. C’mon, it’s Richie.” 

Richie hoped having his back towards them, completely open for an attack from behind, passed on the message that he was willing to be vulnerable to them, though he doubts either understood the reasoning of his action. He glanced down at his watch, 8:45, homeroom has started and they were officially skipping. Richie lived the feeling that came with it. “You guys ready?” Richie said, spinning around to face the others. Stan and Eddie stood together, Stan smiling but Eddie still with his brow furrowed and laced with concern. 

“Yeah, we’ll take you to the clubhouse.” 

“Awesome, I do need to stop at home first, I didn’t actually forget anything but if I’m gonna do this I’m going all out. Do you want to stay here and wait or come with me or what?” 

“No way, nope. We’re not standing here while you run off on your own to die or kill us. We’re coming with you.” Which is about what Richie expected from Eddie. 

“Alright,” he said. “Just, don’t like, question it until I get a chance to explain everything, alright?” The two nodded and took their places on either side of Richie. He began the walk to the motel. If Stan or Eddie had questions, they respected their agreement and didn't ask. Richie could see the confusion crossing Eddie’s face as they entered the parking lot. 

He didn’t see the Volvo and counted his small blessings. He had only left for school less than an hour ago but they had already departed. If Richie had to guess he would say research, their minifridge was still well-stocked that morning and they felt they were close. They must have heard about Georgie by now, would they be interviewing Bill and his parents? Would they remember Bill was one of Richie’s friends or was he just going to be another victims family? 

Eddie and Stan stopped following on the edge of the parking lot. “Uh, Richie, where are we?” Stan said, the same concern Eddie held finally seeping into his voice. Richie had to wonder how he looked leading his two friends to a motel on the edge of town, probably like the serial killer Eddie was starting to think he was. 

“Nope, I said no questions, Stan the Man. Just,” Richie looked over his shoulder. Eddie was standing half-behind Stan and clutching the strap of Stan’s backpack hard enough his hands were turning white. “Lemme run into the room real quick, shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. You’re welcome to come in if you want,” he tacked on at the end. 

Eddie wanted to say something but Stan covered his mouth. “No, we’ll wait here.” 

Richie saluted and pulled the motel room key from his pocket. He ran up to and unlocked the door. He pushed it open quietly in case only one of his parents went out, but no one was there. He let it slam shut. Richie opened his bag and dumped it on the bed. Richie made a pile of the holy water, iron blade, and rock salt. The books he needed for school were shoved to the side and hidden under the blanket in case his parents came home before he did. He dropped to the floor to pull the trunk where he kept his hunting supplies out from it’s spot under the bed. 

Inside was more rock salt as well as regular table, he took both and added them to his pile. He also took the revolver he was given for his tenth birthday, as well as the silver bullets, and his book of protection wards and monster types and how to kill them, courtesy of the Winchester’s. Richie also threw in his current journal of hunts which detailed his family's life over the past two years complete with monsters, methods they used, and the names of the victims. Satisfied with the pile he shoved everything into his bag, zipped it closed and stepped back out of the room, locking the door behind him. 

Richie looked to the edge of the lot where Eddie and Stan were nowhere to be found. He dropped his bag with a  _ clang.  _ “Guys?” Richie called out. He couldn’t panic, not yet. Eddie and Stan were fine, they had to be fine. It wasn’t like Bill’s little brother was taken by a monster in a definite “fuck you” to Richie’s family.  _ Oh fuck, they’re dead, _ he thinks and then immediately curses at himself. They’re not dead, Stan is smart and Eddie wouldn’t go quietly, Richie would have heard something. “Eddie? Stan?” 

There’s rustling behind a car and the two step back into sight, Richie could finally breathe again. Stan looked guilty while Eddie avoided looking at him at all. “I told Eddie that hiding was a bad idea, but he insisted until you came out.” 

“Children are going missing, I think it’s fair to try and keep our time in the open to a minimum.” 

“That’s fair, I guess,” Richie said. He picked his bag up and looked at his friends. “You guys set to lead the way? I would, but I have no idea where we’re going so…”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Richie fell in behind Stan and Eddie behind Richie. Richie would much prefer to be behind both of them, a better protective position as anything from behind would go through him first and they’d see anything from the front, but Eddie was being cautious and Richie couldn’t fault him for that. It was smart, not trusting Richie and acknowledging he was dangerous, but also just a little frustrating. 

He wondered where they were going. Stan has said the barrens, a place Richie has been with the Losers before, but somewhere they hadn’t shown him. He couldn’t imagine anything he hadn’t yet seen in the barrens, the area wasn’t exactly difficult to navigate and Richie had explored it on his own before, but there was something he missed. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Stan stopped and there wasn’t anything in front of them, not a building or a clubhouse or anything Richie had imagined. He was getting ready to ask if they brought him out here to kill him when Beverly popped up from the ground.   
“Took you guys long enough,” she said to Stan while looking at Richie with the same apprehensiveness that Eddie wore. It left Richie wondering what they said to the other’s for her to have that sort of reaction when looking at him. Was everyone going to hate him before he even got the chance to explain? “Everyone’s waiting.” She ducked back down into the hole in the ground. Stan motioned for Richie to follow and well, if Richie was going to be murdered it might as well be by his friends. He followed Beverly down.

The ladder creaked as he crawled down, something homemade, maybe by Mike? He dropped to the floor, skipping the last few steps. He moved forward, out of Eddie and Stan’s way, and glanced around. Beverly and Ben leaned against the far wall. Bill was sitting in the corner, creating a paper boat, something Richie had seen him do countless times. Eddie and Stan dropped in behind him and moved together towards Bill. It was always the three of them together. Richie asked once and Mike said they were the original losers. Beverly invited herself a few years ago and Ben joined when he moved to Derry. Mike wandered into the group one day and just stayed. 

The clubhouse had a little bit of each of them. Next to Bill was a stack of newspapers and there was a box of paper boats nearby. On one of the shelves were a few of the birdwatching books that Richie had seen Stan carry around from time to time. There was a first aid kit with extra supplies next to it on another. Beverly’s favorite brand of cigarettes was sitting on a side table and Ben’s current book was next to them. The History of Derry” notebook Mike was creating as open on the desk. 

“Well, this is cute. Very homely. Doesn’t look like the type of place I’d be murdered in, which is nice ‘cause I was really starting to think that’s where Stan and Eddie were leading me to.” 

“Beep beep,” Eddie muttered. 

Richie was going to apologize, really, but then he saw a hammock hanging in the corner. “Oh fuck, you guys have a hammock?” And then he jumped on it because that’s what Richie does, he ignores the serious until he can’t. He doesn’t get to ignore very long because Eddie wants to know his secret. 

“Alright, trashmouth, care to explain why you wanted us somewhere safe?”

“Ah! Great question. Would you like the long and drawn out version or the quickie. Wait, that whole sentence was worded badly. Ya know what?” Richie pulled off his backpack and opened it. “Here, this might explain things.”  _ Or make you believe I’m a psychopath.  _ He dumped the back out onto the floor. 

Silence, and then: “What the fuck?”“Is that a gun?” “Oh god, Richie’s going to kill us.” The last one coming from Stan who up until that point had done a great job defending Richie’s honor from Eddie.  _ Ah, well, this was bound to happen no matter what,  _ Richie thought. 

“Great observations,” he said tucking himself into the hammock. “But as you can see I am up here and you are down there. If anyone is getting murdered in this situation, it’s me.” 

“Is that a loaded gun?” 

“Why would I bring a loaded gun into an enclosed space? The bullets are in the front pocket of my bag.” 

“Jesus Christ, Richie. What is all of this stuff?” 

Richie tried once, a long time ago, to explain everything to a sort of friend. It hadn’t gone well and if he was talking this wasn’t going to go well either.

_ Well, as long as they think I’m insane… _ Richie rolled off the hammock. He grabbed the book of protection symbols and his charcoal pencil. “There’s a moleskin down there, it’s a journal of my life from the past two years, maybe two and a half I don’t really remember. Give it a read, yeah? It might explain some things.” 

“And what are you going to do?” 

“Well my Dear Bev, If I do say so myself, I'm quite the artist.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying my best to get this out every tuesday woo 
> 
> come hang out in the [discord](https://discord.gg/Pwah8sR) and talk about a variety of topics including but not limited to it, marvel, and my inability to do homework before doing my shot of nyquil


	3. Chapter 3

Eddie has spent the last three hours in a state of panic. Bill had called him early that morning, waking him up at five, to sob into the phone about Georgie nothing coming home last night. That was all Eddie needed to hear to jolt out of bed and forget about sleeping. Eddie knew about the kids going missing and he knew that Georgie was right in the age bracket (he ignored the voice letting him know that his friends were too) and he also knew that Georgie, as young as he was, was punctual. He never missed curfew and for him to do so meant something bad must have happened. Bill wasn’t going to school because of everything happening and Bev wasn’t going to let him sit at home alone so she wasn’t going either. Where Bev went Ben went which left Eddie, Stan, Richie, and Mike. Stan lived a few houses down and met Eddie on the front lawn. 

“I’m surprised your mom’s letting you out of the house,” Stan said in lieu of a greeting. 

“I haven’t told her what had happened yet, as far as she’s aware I slept through the night with no early morning phone calls about missing children.” 

“You’re not going to be able to keep it from her forever.” 

“I know,” Eddie chewed on the end of his pinky nail. “But maybe she doesn’t have to know for a few days. Bill’s gonna need us around and believe it or not I don’t actually enjoy being on house arrest.” 

“I would have never guessed with how you complain,” Stan deadpanned and it was almost enough to get his mind off of what happened. Eddie was never going to forget, not completely, and certainly not while Georgie was missing. It could have been any one of them, the next could be one of them. Eddie had to try not to think about Richie who walked to Eddie’s house alone every morning where anything could happen. 

“Richie’s smart, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“I’m not worried about Richie, why would you think I’m worried about Richie?” 

“Because you have that look on your face you get whenever Richie’s telling one of those dumb stories you claim to hate.” 

Eddie scowled, not at Stan but at himself. Was he really that obvious? It wasn’t his fault Richie was an amazing storyteller and was really pretty. “I hate his stories.” 

“Sure you do,” Stan said knowingly. Eddie sighed, he was never able to lie to his friends. 

“He’s ridiculously pretty, it’s not fair,” Eddie said. “And strong. You saw him carry Bill around like it was nothing.” 

“I did, in fact, see that, yes, I was there. I’m pretty sure he was just doing it to make you laugh.” 

“Why me?” 

“Why not you? You did kind of save him from the Bowers gang on the first day. Maybe it was a love at first sight ``kind of deal.” 

“I didn’t save him,” Eddie mumbled. He crossed his arms and was one step away from pouting. “I just went and got you guys.” 

“Which effectively saved him. Granted, I have no doubt now he could have taken the four of them.” 

Eddie fell quiet. He felt the same, they all did. Richie hadn’t been apart of their group very long but in the month they’ve known him they’ve all seen him do impossible things. He scaled the side of the gym on a dare, fought Patrick for shoving Stan into a locker, and was constantly picking up and carrying them around “for fun”. Eddie knew he wasn’t the only one wondering what sort of life Richie had lived until then that made this normal for him. They all saw Richie looking over his shoulder when he thought no one was paying attention. 

“Do you think Richie’s okay?” 

“I think if he isn’t he’ll let us know.” 

“I asked Richie where he was living the other day, cause it’s been a while and he hasn’t said anything, ya know? He just got kind of red and said it didn’t matter but it does matter because kids are going missing again and Richie...We don’t even know how far he walks to school every day. Anything could happen and I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself knowing that something happened because we didn’t know.” 

“I get that, but he’s not telling us because he doesn’t want us to worry. If you really think something bad is going to happen then we can try and get it from him, but I think he’ll be alright. Look, he made it here alright today.” 

Eddie followed Stan’s gaze until he was looking at Richie walking up the road. It was a relief to see him safe and unaware of the horrors in Derry. And then Stan told Richie what happened and everything they knew about Richie broke. He tried to walk away and when they followed he was acting sketchy. Eddie shot Stan a look behind their friend, something that said: “What’s going on?”. Stan shrugged and they continued to follow without question, only hesitating when Richie walked into the parking lot of the local motel where Bev sometimes gets her weed. No questions, they promised, but Eddie was beginning to ask if that was a good idea. He trusted Richie, he really did, but Richie was starting to make him question if trusting was a good idea. 

“Stan,” Eddie hissed when Richie disappeared into a room. “You seriously cannot be this calm right now.” 

“Oh, no, I’m freaking out but I figured you were also freaking out and it would be a good idea to not show it.” Stan was too good to him. “Like, I knew Richie’s family was different but this is a little much.” 

When he first moved to Derry, Richie didn’t own many clothes, something everyone was quick to rectify, and seeing where he was living...It was like his parents couldn’t be bothered to get a house because they knew Derry was just a temporary stop which didn’t mean anything. Plenty of people stopped in Derry before moving on to better things. Still, there was something nagging at Eddie. Logically, he knew that Richie’s family had come after the disappearances, but there was a part of him that knew it wasn’t a coincidence. Richie knew something about these disappearances that he wasn’t sharing. 

“You don’t think…”

“No,” Stan interrupted. “His parents, maybe, but there’s no way Richie could have anything to do with it.” 

“He looked like he knew something earlier, when you told him about Georgie.” 

“I think he knew about the disappearances and I think he knew they were going to start again.” 

“What if it is his family? Should we trust him?” 

“We can’t blame Richie for anything his family does, it’s not fair to him.” 

“I know, and I’d still trust him with my life but…” 

“But his mom and dad might be in that room,” Stan finished. 

“Yeah, I might trust Richie but I don’t trust them. Should we even be standing out in the open like this?”   
“I don’t think we need to hide, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Just until Richie gets out,” Eddie pleaded. Stan always had trouble saying no because he was nodding and agreeing before Eddie had to ask twice. 

They watched Richie come out of the room. They watched him drop his bag and even begin to panic when he couldn’t see them. Eddie wasn’t convinced everything was fine but he was convinced Richie wasn’t going to hurt them. When Richie suggested somewhere private Eddie reacted as he would had the situation been normal. He wasn’t expecting Stan to suggest the clubhouse, not because Eddie didn’t want to take Richie there, he hadn’t wanted to for a while and was just waiting for the right moment to share. And then, in the clubhouse, Richie acted normal. He was curious, looked at everything they had collected over the years, and then just got into the hammock like nothing was happening. Everyone was staring. Richie had promised answers and now he wasn’t giving anything. 

It was a good thing Eddie’s always had trouble keeping his kith shut. 

“Alright trashmouth, Care to explain why you wanted us somewhere safe?” 

And that led them here. Richie drew on the wall as if everything on the floor was normal and supposed to explain anything. Eddie wanted to scream, yell that this isn’t something to be joking about, but Richie’s expression, the seriousness in his voice, told him that this wasn’t a joke. Whatever Richie was doing, whatever he had in his bag, was real to him. 

“Richie, what is all of this?” Beverly asked, reaching down to pick up a dagger. “Is this iron?” He kept his attention on his drawing and didn’t answer. Eddie watched as Riche drug the charcoal across the wall. His movements were slow and calculated. The image came to life in front of them. It was a symbol of some sort, something Eddie has seen before, in the back of one of his father’s journals. Eddie must have been six or seven the first time he saw it. All he could remember was how loud his mother had yelled, how angry she had been…

“Like I said, try the moleskin. Read it and then I’ll try to answer any questions.” 

Stan was the one who picked up the moleskin, everyone else still frozen to their spots. Ben looked bad, worse than Bill, and was more pale than Eddie had ever seen him. Stan opened to the first page and started to read, “A _ ugust Tenth, Twenty-Sixteen: Wendigo in Rougemont, spent two weeks at Orange High in Hillsborough, liked the town, hated the people. Not as bad as the poltergeist in Tallahassee but worse than rugaru in Portland.”  _ Stan flipped to the middle.  _ “September twenty-eighth, heading to Chicago, possible haunting in the city. Need to get more salt, used a bit too much at the last motel. Wish they’d stop choosing to stay in the haunted ones. _ ”

Silence. 

As Stan read, Eddie slowly turned his attention back to Richie. If this was some sort of prank it was a good one, horrible timing and reasoning, but a lot of effort. The handwriting in the moleskin, that was Richie’s, and it looked like every page up until the one Stan stopped at was covered in writing and pictures. 

Ben took a step back away from Richie. Any color he still had left dissolved. “You’re a hunter,” was all he said. Richie hummed in acknowledgement. 

“In training,” Richie said. “Hunter in training.” It was getting on Eddie’s nerves, how nonchalant Richie was being, couldn’t he try and be less cryptic? Eddie really cared about him and didn’t want to believe his friend was anything other than how Eddie already saw him. “Parents are the real deal, sort of. They like to imagine they are but these days if you’re not dealing with the whole angel’s falling and demons taking over then you’re not really doing much.” 

Ben looked to the items on the floor. His eyes widened at another one of the books, this one a plain composition book that had seen better days.  _ SAM WINCHESTER  _ was written across the cover. “This book says Sam Winchester. You know the Winchester’s?” 

_ Ah, yes, The Winchester’s _ , Eddie thought,  _ Who doesn’t know them? Literally everyone else here.  _ He crossed his arms, watching in interest as Richie’s hand fumbled and he spun around to stare at Ben incredulously. 

“Wait, do you?” 

“I uh, I know of them. They’re legends, nightmares really.” Stan crept closer to Ben and Beverly clutched the iron dagger like it was meant to be in her hands. “My family is uh, well,” Ben glanced at him. Eddie knows Ben, he knows when Ben’s afraid and whatever he wants to say he’s scared of saying. “we’re part of a coven. Or we were. Our lead went a bit crazy a few years back and the Winchester’s came into town. We split when they showed up and moved to a random town in Maine.” 

This is it. Richie and Ben have gone crazy together and were going to kill them all.  _ At least it’s Richie and Ben, better to die at their hands than whoever’s killing the kids.  _

“Well fuck, I had no idea.” 

Ben smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t really try to broadcast it. I mean, I barely know anything about it, my family doesn’t believe in teaching how to properly pack a hex bag until you’re old enough to apply to college. I can only do some basic protection things.”

“That’s what I’m doing here,” Richie rapped one of the symbols he was drawing. “Though I’m correct in assuming you’ve already got some laid out then?” 

“A bit, yeah, but nothing like what your symbols could do. I don’t know what you’ve drawn but I know how hardcore hunter protection can be.” 

“This is just an extra precaution, I usually just throw some salt down and call it a day. As long as you got the basics covered yours should be more than enough.” 

“I do, but I can only do so much without knowing what exactly I’m trying to…” Ben trailed off. He looked at Bill. Bill had fallen back behind everyone. He wore the hoodie Georgie got him last Christmas. It was four sizes too big and Bill absolutely adored it, wore it all the time when he was sick or having a bad day. “That’s why you’re here. Your family is trying to find out what’s been taking the kids?” 

Richie turned back to the wall, charcoal scraping against the surface. “We are, yeah. Haven’t had any luck. We think it stopped because we showed up but it’s gotten hungry again.” 

“It took Georgie because you’re our friend, didn’t it?” 

Richie faltered. His shoulders shook. Richie wasn’t supposed to look like he was on the verge of a breakdown. He was supposed to smile, to make them smile. “I think so,” he said, voice wavering. “They usually take me, I don’t know why it did this.” 

Then Bill lost it. He fell to the ground, sobs racking his body. Beverly and Mike dropped down to comfort him. Ben stepped forward, and so did Stan and Eddie. “Richie, it’s not your fault,” Ben said. “You know that, right?” 

“It sure seems like my fault. Group of hunters shows up and scares it into hiding until it’s starving. Then it takes someone close to the hunter as a message,  _ Back off _ it says except the hunters won’t because they never know when to stop and then another person disappears and another until there’s no one left who matters.” 

“You’ve been through this before.” 

“My parents are hunters who think they can get on the Winchester’s level, I go through this at least twice a month.” 

“Is that what happened with the wendigo?” 

Richie stiffened and then nodded. “And the shapeshifter, and the rugaru, and literally everything. Jesus, do monsters just look at me and go,  _ well that looks like a great meal _ ? Because that’s what it’s starting to feel like except this time I brought you guys into it because I’m an idiot and I just wanted to be selfish for once and have friends. Fuck.” Richie pounded his fist into the wall again and again. 

“It’s alright, Richie,” Stan said quietly. He was slowly approaching Richie. Richie spun around. He was crying. His face was wet with tears and he cheeks were turning red. 

“It’s not alright because I did this. Fucking hell, I shouldn’t be here trying to explain, I should be out there looking for Georgie.” He dropped the charcoal. “That should be enough to keep you guys safe. Stay here for a bit, yeah? I’m going to go do my damn job and bring Georgie home.” 

Eddie wasn’t going to stop him. He was going to let Richie climb out of the clubhouse and possibly die because he was afraid. 

Bill wasn’t. He reached out, grabbed Richie’s hand, and held him back. 

The two of them stayed there, Bill kneeling on the ground sniffling and Richie frozen with Bill’s hand wrapped around his wrist. Eddie watched them. He watched the rise and fall of Bill’s shoulder with every breath and how Richie’s barely rose as though he was keeping himself from breathing too deeply. 

“M...My brother,” Bill said softly. His voice was rough and shaky. “Is he a...alive?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not.” 

“If he might be alive, then I’m coming with you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be a spooktober prompt and then I turned it into a fic, updates are (hopefully) going to be every Tuesday but we'll see 
> 
> come join my [discord](https://discord.gg/Pwah8sR) for my writing process (it's me complaining about my inability to write one-shots)


End file.
